


Love isn't Finite

by TawnyOwl95



Series: Disaster Dads [2]
Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Actor!Crowley, Alternate Universe - Human, Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Crazy Ineffable Thing (called Love) sequel, Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Established Relationship, Found family living their best lives, Hell Fire and Holy Water Companion Fic, M/M, The author loves Pepper, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Warlock's parents are awful, Will be updating in January, Writer!Aziraphale, and if you thought that was self indulgent you haven't seen anything, and snuggles, christmas ghost stories, who stole the lebkuchen from the lebkuchen jar?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-16
Updated: 2021-02-01
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:55:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28108923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TawnyOwl95/pseuds/TawnyOwl95
Summary: 16 years ago, prize winning fantasy novelist A. Z Fell wrote a book called Hell and Holy Water.He published it under a pseudonym because he was going through several, private, personal crisis and it was either write a homoerotic victorian ghost story or have a break down.Now, on Christmas Eve, the book has come back to haunt him, but can Mr Eastgate and Mr Eden really survive the spectre haunting St. Beryl's Church for a second time? And in a TV adaptation at that?More importantly, who has managed to discover Aziraphe wrote Hell and Holy Water in the first place
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Disaster Dads [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2059269
Comments: 83
Kudos: 122





	1. It's Been a Long Hard Year

**Author's Note:**

> Chapter covers the first part of Christmas Eve
> 
> All the chapter titles come from Queen's Thank God it's Christmas

**Christmas Eve**

There was a reindeer stealing the lebkuchen. Although by far the greater crime was that the reindeer was doing it in the kitchen where Aziraphale had come for a moments private worrying. 

"Adam!" Aziraphale snapped, and it came out far harsher than intended. 

The reindeer straightened up guiltily, his hood tipping back under the weight of its plush antlers to reveal a mop of blond curls and a cherub's innocent blue eyes. The mischievous curl of his lip though, that was all Crowley's. 

Aziraphale was always too weak to resist that smile, both on his husband's face and his step son's. "They'll be none left for tomorrow," Aziraphale said, resigned. 

"Warlock likes them." Adam shrugged a shoulder. He grabbed the hip of the reindeer onesie, that was now really too small for his long-limbed-not-quite-adult body, to wiggle it back into place. "He's our guest and his parents are awful. He deserves _all_ the lebkuchen."

"And the marzipan fruits?" Aziraphale stepped forward so he could peer into the novelty tin Adam had clutched one handed to his chest. "And a rather generous slice of the yule log? And good lord, you've opened the salted caramels!?" 

"Warlock’s parents," Adam said deliberately, "are awful." He clutched the tin tighter to his chest. 

Aziraphale lifted an eyebrow that he hoped suggested he knew exactly what strings Adam was trying to pull and, as a responsible parent, would not be hoodwinked. He was sure he would have looked a great deal more like an authority figure if Adam weren't now a good three inches taller than him and still growing. 

And Aziraphale really was just after a quick, peaceful five minute worry before _Trivial Pursuits_ commenced. He needed to get it out of his system so he wouldn't ruin the holidays by obsessing over something that really was very silly. 

"Warlock's parents are dreadful," Aziraphale conceded. And they were. Abandoning Warlock over Christmas so they could swan off back to America for a cocktail party, returning on Boxing Day for their own soiree rather than their son. Poor boy seemed more than used to it, but if there was one thing Aziraphale's own family was good at than it was love and acceptance. 

Alright, two things. 

Love, acceptance and unconditional support. 

Wait, that's three things…

"Oh, get along with you." Aziraphale waved his hand. 

"Thanks Dad." Adam got along, pausing only to grab a Terry's chocolate orange on the way out. 

Aziraphale took a moment to enjoy the luxury of being alone. He sat at the kitchen island, putting his glass of mulled wine carefully down. He placed his glasses on his nose. 

Shouts of victory drowned out Gregory Porter's crooning as Adam arrived back in the den with his haul. 

The hopes Aziraphale and Crowley had of quiet being more readily available in a bigger house were thwarted on a daily basis. Teenagers were loud. On his less chivalrous days Aziraphale swore the only reason Pepper had wanted to learn bass guitar was because of how the thrum could reverberate through walls. Her constant renditions of _Come As You Are,_ were, however, preferable to the satanic violin playing they'd been subjected to when Adam's Sherlock Holmes phase was at its peak. 

Aziraphale huffed. The excited shouts from the den were silenced as food, no doubt found its way into mouths. It was quiet now, mostly. 

Just Aziraphale and Gregory Porter whispering down the corridor. 

Aziraphale pulled the printed email out of his pocket and spread it out on the kitchen island's top. He sipped his wine, then laced his fingers so he could lean forward again and start his worrying. 

"You OK?" 

_Drat._

Aziraphale looked up. His irritation bled away. Crowley lounged against the kitchen door frame, flame red hair mostly hidden beneath a black bobble hat with _bah humbug_ written across the brim in white. There was a bell on it that tinkled merrily as Crowley pulled up a stool and tucked his long legs under the kitchen island next to Aziraphale's. 

"You're the only person I know who could wear that hat unironically," Aziraphale observed. 

"Yup." Crowley helped himself to a swig of Aziraphale's wine. "That's why they pay me the big bucks." He peered at the email. "Is this what's been bothering you all day?" 

"No," Aziraphale dismissed, leaning back a bit. "Nothing's bothering me. I'm perfectly fine."

Crowley dropped an elbow on the counter, rested his head on his hand and looked at Aziraphale with both fondness and complete disbelief. 

There was a reason Crowley was an actor and Aziraphale very much wasn't. Aziraphale conceded and pushed the email over. He managed to not fidget too much while it was read. 

Crowley's muscles tensed with excitement, eyes bright as he turned to look at Aziraphale. He kept it in check though as he said, "And this _isn't_ a good thing because…?"

A scream of laughter rose from the den. No crash followed. No shout of real anger and they both relaxed again. 

"You know how hard _Hell and Holy Water_ was to write. How personal it is," Aziraphale whispered. 

He was fiercely proud of that book, but had published it anonymously and had also been quite happy for it to remain unknown and unclaimed. Now, he suspected it would be horribly embarrassing to read it again. If he wrote it now it would be a very different book. 

He'd had to write it though. Lost and alone in his own head, Aziraphale had carved it out of the quiet midnight hours when a baby Pepper was sleeping on his chest. It had kept him sane. There was rather too much of himself, or the person he'd thought he’d been, in those words, and now that made him uncomfortable. Mortified, really, at the self-indulgent yearning and self pity of it. 

"How did this budding new director know to contact my agent, Crowley?" Aziraphale asked. 

"Not me. I'd ask first. You know that. Besides, got nothing to gain have I? I'm too old to play your dashing young hero now." 

"You _are_ my dashing young hero. No acting required," Aziraphale said. 

"Young?" Crowley's eyebrow rose, pointed and sharp. 

"My ambling, nearing retirement aged hero with a dodgy knee, then." Aziraphale smiled. "Is that better?" 

"No."

Adam had left the lebkuchen box open. Crowley dragged it towards him and plucked one out. 

"They'll be none left….oh bugger it!" Aziraphale helped himself to three. "There's always the role of the biggest landowner in the county," he added. 

"The biggest something in the county, certainly." Crowley grinned as he munched on the gingerbread. "Not that I couldn't play him, mind, but I'd be so bloody awful and obnoxious you'd never find me attractive again. Not worth it."

"You playing Caligula in _Elder Souls_ hasn't put me off yet." Quite the opposite, actually. Aziraphale had not written the character with sex appeal in mind, but then he'd never expected the book to be published, or made into a film. He'd not expected to be married to the actor he'd been crushing on for the best part of his adult life and seeing Crowley saunter about in a black toga quoting lines Aziraphale had written was, well, the source of several emotions Aziraphale had rather enjoyed working through in the privacy of his own head. 

Crowley looked at the email again. "They want you to write the script. Be involved with the show running. Sounds like you'd have control over how it turned out."

It _was_ a very sensitively worded email. Cautious and hopeful. And it wasn't that Aziraphale wasn't tempted. "Hmmm. I kind of presumed the book was dead, that's all. I mean there was only ever one print run to start with. If this happens it'll be everywhere. I'll have to talk about it. In public. To actual people." Aziraphale shuddered. 

"Urgh, people." Crowley thoughtfully pinched more of Aziraphale's wine. "Just consider though, there's lots of _people_ out there who'd benefit from this story, I benefited from this story, and hearing _your_ story as you talked about why you wrote it could be something special. And after the first _Elder Souls_ film did so well they'd listen to you. But, _but,_ if you don't feel comfortable then you are under no obligations. I'll support you whatever. You know that, right?" Crowley laid his palm over the back of Aziraphale's hand. 

"Wise words, my dear."

"Oh it's about to get better! We've got ourselves a captive audience." Crowley stood up, offering his hand. "I mean, if you're worried whether you can talk about the book or if it's still relevant, those kids will be as brutally honest as you could hope for."

"Oh, I couldn't. No." Aziraphale drew back in horror. 

"What, can't remember how it goes? I can help. And there's a fine old tradition of ghost stories on Christmas Eve."

"What about all the…" Aziraphale glanced furtively around and lowered his voice "... Sex."

Crowley shrugged a shoulder. "Edit it out. Fade to black."

"There was rather a lot," Aziraphale whispered. 

"I remember. Filthy angel." Crowley grinned wickedly. "Lucky me."

"It was rather relevant to the plot," Aziraphale insisted. His cheeks warmed. Crowley calling him _angel_ never ceased to do that. The absolute devil knew it too. 

"Well, I mean it’s more about the emotional epiphanies, isn’t it? And you don't have to go into detail about what goes where. They're seventeen. I've already had 'the talk' with Pepper." Crowley shrugged a shoulder and snagged another lebkuchen. 

Aziraphale shot to his feet. "When? Take that back Crowley, she is a child!" 

"Who has both the trainee camera operators on _Heist_ in love with her." Crowley grinned. 

" _What?"_ Aziraphale knew he never should have said yes to that audition. A bit part, Crowley had said. Hardly on screen at all, just two scenes being a sassy street urchin who helped Crowley's gang leader out of a tight fix. Then the director had said Pepper and Crowley had 'chemistry' and a whole season later and they were still bringing Pepper's character back when her studying allowed. And now there were trainee camera operators! How old were they? What was their hygiene like? What were their _morals_ like? 

" _What trainee camera operators?"_ Aziraphale said again at a slightly higher pitch. " _Crowley? You will tell me everything!"_

Crowley rested his hands on Aziraphale's shoulders, squeezing gently. "She said you'd react like that. Stopped you worrying about the email though, haven't I?" Crowley grabbed the lebkuchen box and swayed backwards to the kitchen door. "You coming, angel?" 

"Fiend!" Aziraphale snapped, but he shoved the email back in his pocket as he hurried after his husband. "We will be having words later!" 

"Promise? I like your words." Crowley slipped an arm around Aziraphale's waist, pulling him close. His kiss was laced with mulling spices and gingerbread. "And what's Christmas without a bracing domestic to clear the air?" Crowley whispered in Aziraphale's ear. 

"Hardly a domestic. I haven't even thrown anything yet." Aziraphale tried to sound put out, but it was rather difficult with Crowley stroking his lower back.

“It’s still early," Crowley said and kissed him again. 

Aziraphale wound his arms around his husband's neck and would have been quite happy to let the discussion finish there. Typically, another shriek of outraged laughter pierced the calm. 

"Better get back in there," Crowley murmured against Aziraphale's lips. "At least if you're talking they'll have to shut up and listen."

"My dear, where have you been for the last six years?" 

Crowley chuckled. "Fair point. Promise them ghosts, magic and intrigue from the outset, alright?" 

"Alright." And it wasn't really a _bad_ idea, just a tad terrifying. 

Crowley laced their fingers together. "I'll be with you all the way through it."

Aziraphale squeezed his hand. "You'd bloody well better be."

"Story time!" Crowley turned off all the lights, except those on the Christmas Tree. The den was cosy in the softened darkness, the wood burner throwing out heat and soothing orange light to offset the twinkling of the tree. 

Aziraphale couldn't quite relax though. He could remember the story of _Hell and Holy Water._ He could also remember how he’d felt when he wrote it. He clasped his hands behind his back to stop them wringing. 

"What about _Trivial Pursuits?"_ Adam asked. 

"Ah, we've had a better offer." Crowley began topping up everyone's wine (punch for the children, all three of whom were sprawled over the corner sofa in a tangle of limbs like a pack of feral wolf cubs.) It was quite atmospheric, except for Adam crunching his way through lebkuchen. Warlock liked them indeed!

Warlock, snowman onesie which quite ruined his goth aesthetic, cradled his punch glass and peered around him with wide, delicate eyes, although he did manage to look like less of a guest now. Pepper, elf onesie including hat, had her feet, including curly toed shoes, proprietary in his lap. She'd joined Adam in adopting Warlock with a fierceness that was quite dazzling to behold in action. 

"I think team Crowley is worried about losing again." Pepper wriggled around to sprawl across Warlock and steal Adam's lebkuchen for herself, eating it with much more decorum than her step brother.

"You got lucky, Peps. And this year we have the human encyclopedia on our team." Adam flung an arm round Warlock's shoulder. The poor boy's ears reddened dreadfully. 

"No way! Warlock's with team Fell!" 

Before Warlock could expire from awkwardness Crowley decreed that the annual _Trivial Pursuits_ tournament would be delayed only. "It is, after all, a matter of honour that must be satisfied," he added with a sly smirk at Aziraphale. "After last year's outrageous accusations of cheating!" 

Aziraphale laughed, but the lack of any further defence made Pepper ask, "You OK, dad? Have you had a new idea for a book?" 

Crowley smiled at Aziraphale. It was soft, like a warm, steady hug. 

"Quite an old book actually. Thinking of dusting it off and adapting it." Aziraphale settled in his arm chair, cradling his glass of mulled wine. "Be useful to have all your thoughts."

"Go on then, Dad," Pepper said around a mouthful of half chewed biscuit. Her eyes were encouraging. Aziraphale couldn't remember exactly when he'd noticed her fierceness protected him as well. Shortly after the May Half Term Incident six years ago, if he were honest. 

Thinking of that still made him sick with terror. It was diluted somewhat by looking around at how full and joyful his life had become since then. There wasn't a day he didn't fall in love with his family just a little bit more. 

Aziraphale sipped his wine, eyes going to Crowley who was lounging in the other arm chair. He grinned and made a lazy off you go motion with his hand. "Right then, if we're all sitting comfortably?" Aziraphale wiggled so he _was_ sitting comfortable. He took a deep breath and began. 


	2. We Have the Strangest Ways

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Christmas Eve to Christmas Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Credit to  
> [Quefish](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quefish/pseuds/Quefish)  
> who in her comment on the prequel said Crowley needed to be in the movie adaptation of Elder Souls so he can tease Aziraphale mercilessly for wanting to write fanfiction about it.

**Christmas Eve**

Aziraphale sat in bed watching as the number of lebkuchen left in the box dwindled to single figures. Still, he couldn't stop eating them. The story telling had gone alright though. Hadn't it? Performance anxiety never quite let itself be mastered, but at least Aziraphale had the self control to wait until Crowley had gone into the shower before starting stress nibbling. 

It had all been fine. 

Although Warlock had been very wide eyed and tense, which had belatedly made Aziraphale wonder if the subject matter would be distressing for him. 

No permanent harm done though if the laughter winding its way up the stairs from the den was anything to go by. 

There had been furious arguments over whether the Christmas Eve sleepover would take place in Adam's room or Pepper's. There'd never been any suggestion that all three of them would not be sleeping in a room together as custody of Warlock was very much shared between the two siblings. The compromise had been dragging duvets and sleeping bags downstairs to camp out around the Christmas Tree. 

It was sweet, if Aziraphale didn't consider the logistics of negotiating three full stockings down an extra flight of stairs at two in the morning, or that Adam would have had unimpeded access to further lebkuchen had Aziraphale not done the only sensible he could think of and smuggled the box upstairs with him. 

Drat, only three left. May as well finish the job now. 

"They'll be none left for tomorrow." Crowley came back into the bedroom in a fug of pine scented steam. 

"We need something to keep us awake until stocking time," Aziraphale said defensively. 

Crowley settled on the edge of the bed in nothing but a towel and dressing gown and began drying between his toes. Aziraphale tried not to be weird about it and stare, but honestly, seeing his husband's feet, all naked and vulnerable still felt like an undeserved privilege. 

"Up until recently," Crowley mused, "something to keep us awake wouldn't have been you eating in bed and me having a nervous breakdown over crumbs."

"So dramatic!" Aziraphale took the last lebkuchen and offered it up between his thumb and index finger. 

Crowley rolled his eyes. 

Aziraphale put as much adoration and pleading in his own expression as he could. 

Crowley gazed heavenward searching for a merciful god, but soon gave it up as a bad job and leaned forward, taking the biscuit from Aziraphale's fingers with his teeth.

"Actor." He muttered with his mouthful. "Paid to be dramatic. Besides, the kids know it’s us doing the stockings." He got up, wiggling into a pair of pyjama bottoms so slinky Aziraphale was constantly amazed he didn't slide straight out of bed. 

"Yes, but they still want to _believe_ it isn’t." 

And Aziraphale still enjoyed the pantomime of it. They were growing up fast enough as it was. He saw no reason to rush matters along. 

"We’re stopping when they’re eighteen," Crowley said. 

"You said that when they were sixteen."

The bed creaked as Crowley swung into it. "Argh! See!" He began sweeping his palm over the duvet. "Crumbs!" 

"There is not!" Aziraphale shuffled back to look. "I was careful!" 

"Then what's that!" Crowley pointed at a spot of cotton that, to Aziraphale's eyes at least, looked as clean and pristine as every other spot. 

"Your finger." Aziraphale said dryly.

Crowley looked up, mouth gaping. He burst out laughing. "It's a good job I love you."

Aziraphale preened. "Yes, it is. And seeing as we do need to stay awake, I thought I'd give you a present early."

"Oh, a _present?"_ Crowley settled back on the pillows and waggled his eyebrows. "Do I get to see what you have on under those awful tartan pyjamas?" 

"Shush!" Aziraphale twisted round to get the book he'd been reading from the bedside table. He pulled out some sheets of paper that he'd printed out earlier. His eyes flicked over the words in case any last minute typos jumped out at him, then threw caution to the wind and handed them over to Crowley. 

Crowley settled with one arm behind his head and read. The change that came over his face was delightful. Puzzlement, to shock, to his mouth performing contortions to stop himself from laughing. Finally, Crowley schooled his face into a mask of deadly seriousness and said, "This is _Elder Souls_ fanfiction. Specifically a very naughty OC bodyslave helping Caligula find the true meaning of saturnalia by, among other things, doing very unhygienic things with a parsnip. Aziraphale, dearest, are you, in fact, writing porn with feelings about your own book to film adaptation?" 

Aziraphale smiled perfectly innocently. "Everyone's doing it. Look, I spend at least a paragraph describing how gorgeous your neck is." He pointed out said paragraph smugly. 

"Please tell me you didn't actually post this online?" 

"Would you like that?" 

"I, erm." Crowley's ears went pink. "I think I feel thoroughly roasted enough, thank you."

"Not yet, but on page three the cook helps out…" 

Aziraphale squealed as he was flipped onto his back with Crowley straddling him, pinning his wrists to the pillow. "You are a menace!" 

"Oh, you don't like it!" Aziraphale pouted. 

Crowley's lips were twitching again as they tried and failed to stay serious. 

" _A menace!"_ Crowley growled. 

"Then teach me a lesson," Aziraphale batted his eyelashes. "Your Imperial Majesty."

Crowley lost his internal battle with himself. He hung his head, snorting laughter through his nose. When he dared look at Aziraphale again, his eyes were bright. "How can you be so damn annoying, and cute, and fucking sexy at the same time. It gives me whiplash."

Aziraphale would have melted into the sheets right then, if it wouldn't have lead to an argument about soaking out stains. "I love you too, my dear. Did I say?" 

"Hmm." Crowley's gaze flicked over Aziraphale's face. He was still smiling, but there was a furrow between his brows. "Got a present for you too."

"Oh?" Aziraphale wiggled his hips. 

"Not that. Besides, left my parsnip downstairs, haven't I?" Crowley sat back on his legs and twisted so he could grab his own sheaf of papers from his side of the bed. "Now, don't freak out."

Aziraphale pushed himself up onto his elbows. "That's not the thing to say if you wish me to remain calm."

Crowley thrust the papers forward. Aziraphale didn't bother reaching for his glasses, just squinted at the page. It was a property listing for a cottage. Well, it said cottage, but it was really a two and a half storey building that was old enough and worn enough to have settled comfortably into the landscape. Character, that was what it had. Character and warmth. 

"... Will be at university soon, but there's still room for them and their mountains of stuff, and I know you still have all the charity events at the bookshop, but there's good people running it now, and we can both carry on working from anywhere, can’t we? It's right by Devil's Dyke where we took the kids together. Our first family holiday after the May Half Term Incident…"

They both shared something between a sigh of nostalgia and shiver of terror. As meetcutes went it was one of the more stressful variety. 

"... I haven't made an offer yet," Crowley rambled on." Wanted you to see it first."

Aziraphale looked at his husband who was rubbing the back of his neck while his words became increasingly disjointed.

“It's lovely," Aziraphale said. 

Crowley's whole body relaxed. "Yeah?"

"Yes."

"Not too fast?" 

Aziraphale shook his head. He was feeling quite teary all of a sudden. "We have spoken about it, and why wouldn't I want to retire to the country with my snusband?"

"Snusband?" Crowley asked half affronted and half amused. 

"Because we snuggle." Aziraphale said innocently. "Snuggle. Husband."

"I don't snuggle!" 

"Then what exactly was it we were doing through the entirety of _It's a Wonderful Life,_ last week?" 

"I can't speak for what you were doing you kinky bugger, but I wasn't bloody snuggling!" Crowley plucked the property listing from Aziraphale's fingers and tossed it on the floor. 

"Well, if you don't want to snuggle what _do_ you want to do?" Aziraphale purred. 

Aziraphale didn't object to finding himself pinned back to the bed.

"I'll show you, _Angelus_."

"The parsnip…" 

"Oh, I'll think of something."

  
  
  
**Christmas Day**

"Phone's ringing!" Aziraphale called out again. When there was _still_ no response he checked nothing was about to boil over or burn and stuck his head into the den. 

Crowley and Warlock were plugged into a racing game on the television. Whatever mischief Adam and Pepper were up to, it was being done upstairs judging by the direction the shrieks of laughter were coming from. 

The joy of cooking a Christmas dinner was that it mostly involved sitting in the kitchen reading and drinking wine until the frantic rush of dishing everything up. Aziraphale marked his place in _Hell and Holy Water_ with his thumb and picked up the phone that was now bleeping with distress. "Hello?" 

"Aziraphale!" said a rather too chipper voice. 

"Oh, it's you." _You_ in this instance being Matt, his ex wife's aide. "Effie's making you work today?" 

"Just finishing something urgent off, but there's a buffet and she's making us wear Christmas hats." 

"You poor dear," Aziraphale took great pains to make it obvious he didn't care a jot. Then because it was Christmas, and he was particularly tempted to indulge himself with petty revenge on a man who had consistently made him feel so thoroughly worthless, added, "The children made Crowley wear a Christmas hat too."

Aziraphale was rewarded with a pointed silence. 

Then, "And how is… Crowley?" Matt breathed the name like a sacrament. 

Aziraphale had suspected Matt's crush on Crowley for a while. One of Aziraphale's very real joys, almost as good as actually being married to Crowley, was being smugly passive aggressive about said marriage to Matt. 

"Oh, he's very well thank you. Still swinging his hips around in those obscenely tight trousers. I'm sure you know the ones. They really can't be good for his circulation. I keep telling him, dearest, you really should slip into something more comfortable."

Matt's swallow was audible, then the phone changed hands. 

"Aziraphale, stop teasing my aide," Effie said biting down on a laugh. 

"Tell your aide to stop objectifying my snusband," Aziraphale shot back, then winced. 

"Your what?" This time Effie did laugh, it was thoroughly unsettling. Like the tinkling of fairy bells. "Wait, I don't want to know, do I?" 

"Regardless, I don't want to tell you," Aziraphale sniffed. "You're really working right now?" 

"The country's enemies don't take Christmas off so neither do I. Did Pepper get her present? I sent something for Adam too, and their friend."

"Yes, safely under the tree for after Christmas dinner." He silently set a prayer free that it would be something Pepper had asked for, or at least indicated that Effie knew her daughter at all. 

She was trying though, and that was the important thing. It's just that although Pepper was now old enough to be gracious about disappointing gifts she was still young enough to be hurt. 

"Thank you, Az." And Effie sounded genuinely grateful which was always nice. "I'll send a car for her and Adam on New Year's Eve, lunch time."

"Yes, it's in the family calendar. The big one in the kitchen. Red ink and everything."

"Lovely. Is Pepper there?" Effie asked hopefully. 

Aziraphale moved the phone from his ear and called up the stairs. "Pepper! Your mother!" 

A crash, followed by, "Hang on!" Then numerous thuds before Pepper came down the stairs. 

"Dinner in thirty minutes." Aziraphale handed the phone over and squeezed her shoulder. It still wasn't quite the relationship he thought Pepper deserved with her mother, but, all things considered, it was more than fifty percent better than it had been. 

Aziraphale opened the door to the den. "Thirty minutes."

The game was paused and Crowley and Warlock sat cross-legged on the floor facing each other. They both looked up guiltily. 

Aziraphale lifted his eyebrows at Crowley who smiled encouragingly. 

"Thirty minutes to dinnertime," Aziraphale said more softly and left them to it. He'd hear all about any worrys later. 

Dinner was the best kind of chaos, equaled only by the chaos of opening the presents under the tree afterwards. Aziraphale was quite pleasantly tipsy by four o clock, his head resting on Crowley's shoulder and absolutely not snuggling. He was more than ready to drift off when Adam said, "So what happened next?" 

Crowley jostled his shoulder to make Aziraphale wake up a bit more. 

"Next?" Aziraphale blinked. 

"In the story," Adam said. "Warlock was asking."

Warlock's eyes nearly jumped from his head. "Only if it's no trouble…" For an awful moment it looked like he was going to call Aziraphale 'sir' but the word died on his tongue and he smiled hopefully instead. 

"Oh!" Aziraphale sat up. "You really want to know?" 

Warlock couldn't quite meet his eyes, but nodded enthusiastically enough. 

"I want to know," Pepper said. "Adam and I have a wager over whodunit."

"As long as you've not wagered anything illegal," Crowley said. "Or life threatening."

Adam blew air out through his lips in a 'pfffshht.' "Where would the fun be otherwise?" 

Crowley sneered at him. "Don't tease me, kid."

"It's obviously Sandalphon who murdered Eric," Adam said. "I saw the way he wasn't mentioned too much, but was implied he was thoroughly jealous of Gabriel."

"I confirm or deny nothing." Aziraphale sat up. 

Pepper watched him carefully. "Go on then. What happens next?" 

Aziraphale wet his lips. 

She was wearing an expression that made her look far too grown up, as though she was carefully weighing up evidence, sifting it and recording it with a view to submitting a two thousand word paper on 'why my dad is a completely vulnerable and emotional mess.'

Reading _Hell and Holy Water_ again had made him realise just how exposed he might be about to make himself. 

He shot Crowley a nervous look and got a fond smile in return. 

That was the point though, wasn't it? If Aziraphale couldn't talk about it here with the people who knew and loved him best then he'd know he couldn't do it anywhere else. "Right then, where were we…" 


	3. Hopes and Fears

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Christmas Day Eve to Boxing Day Morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the delay, and thank you all for reading.

**Christmas Day Eve**

Aziraphale had escaped to the kitchen to wash up. Adam and Pepper were furiously discussing theories over who the murderer was with Warlock sat between them, big eyes fixed on Aziraphale with something like wonder. It was disconcerting. Hence the desperate need for escape. His nerves hadn't been able to stand it. 

With something calming and bluesy on the radio Aziraphale could almost ignore the worry picking away at him. 

He had a few days before he needed to make a decision on whether  _ Hell and Holy Water  _ being adapted was a good idea. Here, in this safe Christmas bubble with his family there was time to relax. 

Aziraphale tried to relax. 

"You shouldn't be doing that." Crowley's arms slipped around his waist. 

"Thought I'd just get a head start,” Aziraphale said breezily. 

"And avoid the literary criticism going on next door?"

"Hmm." Aziraphale turned round, looping his arms round Crowley's neck and dripping bubbles on his collar. 

"Thought your lot loved hearing your work talked about like that." Crowley nuzzled his ear. 

"My lot! And even if we did, it wouldn't be a patch on your lot,” Aziraphale huffed.

"Fair," Crowley said and kissed him. 

Aziraphale had no objection to being kissed against the kitchen sink. If Crowley was getting bubbles dripped down his back too now, well, the stains would wash out, surely? He reached behind himself for the tea towel, anyway.

At some stage they'd started moving, first away from the sink, and then back and forth in a gentle sway. Almost in time to the music. 

"Are we dancing?" Aziraphale whispered against Crowley's lips. 

"Well, I don't know…"

" _ Are you asking? _ " They said together. 

Aziraphale giggled. Crowley's smile was unbearably fond. He spun Aziraphale under his arm, and pulled him back into his chest. 

"Spoke to Rafe earlier," Crowley said. 

"Your agent? Why?" 

"I know you don't like him."

"He flirts with you dreadfully." Aziraphale tutted. 

"He flirts with everyone." 

"Not with  _ me." _

Crowley scoffed. "Last year's Golden Globes. He spent all night getting you drinks."

"While you were networking."

"He wanted me to play Caligula more than I did."

Aziraphake gasped with betrayed shock. 

"Anyway,” Crowley pulled the conversation back on track. “He doesn't know anything about your book. He, ah, has come across something for Pepper." Crowley concentrated very firmly on Aziraphale's ear. 

"Pepper?" This was not going to be pleasant. For Aziraphale, anyway. 

Crowley rolled his lips inwards. "It's a YA steampunk thing, one of the lead's friends is up for grabs. Rafe wondered if she'd audition. They'll be mostly filming around Prague."

Aziraphale's skin chilled. He took a deep breath, but his feet had stopped moving. This was fine. He had to let go sooner or later, and he'd prepared himself for her going to university next year anyway. This was no different, except it was a whole different country. 

"You OK?" 

"Yes." Aziraphale nodded and squeezed his husband's hand. "Keep talking to me." "

“She's good angel, she could make something of this, if she wanted."

"I know she's good." Aziraohale hadn't meant to sound so defensive. 

"I know. No one spends that long in the bathroom after an episode of  _ Heist _ ." Crowley smiled. Very carefully they started dancing again. 

"I wasn't crying. Much." Aziraphale had been. It had been embarrassingly messy, but in his defence, Pepper had been  _ really  _ good. 

"We don't have to tell her. I'll tell Rafe to keep quiet too."

They could. But that would be terribly unfair. "We do. I couldn't not tell her in case this is really what she wants to do."

"Do you…?" 

"No." Aziraphale shook his head. "You know more about it. And, I don't want her influenced by me. She can always tell. And she worries about me. Almost as much as I worry about her, I imagine." 

"OK." Crowley nodded, then hugged him tight. 

"Could I have a moment?" Aziraphale mumbled into Crowley's shoulder. 

"Sure. Just, no more washing up."

"Alright, dear."

As soon as Crowley was gone, Aziraphale got his emergency box of lebkuchen out from the back of the pantry cupboard. Just as he was backing out, a box clutched to his chest, Adam said, "Just so you know, I plan to be sponging off you well into my thirties."

Aziraphale spun around. Thankfully he was not feeling childish enough to hide the gingerbread behind his back. 

"Thank you dear, that means a lot." Aziraphale sat down at the kitchen island and opened the box. Adam settled next to him casually helping himself. 

“Do you mind that Pepper likes acting?" 

"Nope," Adam said and, understanding the real question Aziraphale was asking, added. "I like my dad has someone to share his passion with. And I may have to share him, but I also have a timeshare on you too. And I have the photography and the comics, and a place in art school because I know how to tell a story. You taught me that."

"Thank you." Aziraphale beamed. "It's been a pleasure."

"This story you're telling us now, it's the one Dad likes, isn't it?" Adam snagged another lebkuchen. 

"What makes you say that?" Aziraphale asked while deciding whether or not this was a conversation he wanted to have when he was already emotionally tender.

"I'm not stupid. He'd talk about it sometimes before the two of you got together. Then the two of you were taking your time getting together, an absolute age, if I'm honest…" 

"Probably the stress of our children  _ running away." _

Adam blushed, but only slightly. "Worked, didn't it? Anyway…" he barrelled on in the face of Aziraphale working up to a well worn lecture, "He'd leave the book around the house. And when we all moved in together I saw you keep a copy on your desk."

"Oh." The Sherlock Holmes phase wasn't as dead as they'd thought. That was concerning. 

"Look…" Adam slid his phone across the counter top. "Dunno if this'll help with whatever's happening."

Aziraphale recognised the AO3 banner, and his heart jumped when he noted the tags. People were writing  _ Hell and Holy Water  _ fanfiction. Good lord.

"Found it by accident when I was doing the Holmes comics," Adam said. "Small fandom, but really into it. Like, scary feral into it."

"Oh!" Why had Aziraphale never thought to look? He was overwhelmed and flattered and… his heart jumped again when he noticed some of the  _ other _ tags. 

"Adam." Aziraphale cleared his throat. "Have you read  _ all _ …?” 

"No." Adam's cheeks went pink. "Not all the more niche ones. My hormones are going through enough already without worrying over how I feel about multi-eyed eldritch horrors and nagas. Wait, will you?" His eyes narrowed. 

"No!" Aziraphale looked quickly away. "I mean, technically I don't think I can. Especially if I'm going to acknowledge the book's mine, so to speak." He smiled to draw attention away from his hands fluttering nervously over the formica. 

"Yeah, you might want to stay away from the forums where they discuss who E. Worthing might be too. Your name did come up recently, but I kept quiet." Adam leaned forward over his crossed arms. "What I wanted you to know was, that people do really care about these characters. You only turn someone into a scary, kink monster if you do care about them. Fictional someone, I mean."

"You have read it!"

"No! It's right there in summary. Look." Adam jabbed his finger at the screen.

Aziraphale looked and that was indeed the fics summary. "Well then, good.” He sat back in his chair, mentally bracing himself. “But, Adam, you can talk to me…" 

"Dad, please. Don't do this to me at Christmas." Adam snatched up his phone and wiggled off the stool. 

“Alright!” Aziraphale held up his hands. “Just if you  _ do…” _

“Fine! Yes, I promise. Geesh!”

"Wait!" Aziraphale turned on his stool. "Firstly, don't take the whole box of lebkuchen. Secondly, if you've read these you know how it ends."

"Er, yes."

"And you're arguing with Pepper anyway because?"

"It's on you. You didn't want me to have a sister to tease you shouldn't have married my dad." Adam grinned.

Adam held the lebkuchen box tight and fled from the kitchen. Aziraphale took a moment to collect himself and to enjoy the conflicted feelings of admiration and exasperation he had whenever he'd just spoken to his son. Then he pulled out his own phone and opened up AO3.

After five minutes he went and retrieved his  _ other  _ emergency box of lebkuchen and a pen. 

  
  


**Boxing Day morning**

The children were making breakfast. It sounded horrendous. Crowley kept jumping up to peer down the corridor. Every crash and shriek of laughter made him wince. 

Aziraphale would have asked him not to be so neurotic, except he was reading the email about the tv adaptation again. He’d hidden it behind his newspaper. 

Crowley leaned over the back of the chair and poked the email right in the Comic Sans. "You know you don't have to write it at all?"

"Couldn't trust somebody else!" Aziraphale huffed. "And I wrote those scripts for  _ Heist _ ."

"Yes, and now nobody can mention ducks around me without snickering." Crowley flopped back on the sofa. "What I meant was you can say no, to the whole project."

Aziraphale could, but if the answer was that easy he would have sent the reply already. 

And reading the fanfiction had made him excited. Wonderful mirror fanfiction was. It had confirmed some things about the book he'd already been thinking he'd approach differently. 

He'd made notes on popular themes emerging. It had made him realise it wasn't just his book anymore and that was a huge weight lifted from his shoulders, but also a whole other labyrinth of expectations to navigate. 

"Saying no outright feels churlish, the email my agent forwarded was very sweet. And it's not like people don't know about me." Aziraphale went back to his paper. 

"Yeah, there's knowing and then kicking something into the public domain so they have a reason to talk about it. Remember how crabby you got about the discussion around your two  _ Elder Souls _ characters." Crowley said, half distracted by a whoop from the kitchen. 

"Well, I'm sorry, but they are in love it's obvious. Just because…. Yes, point taken." He turned the page with a satisfying crackle, even though he'd long since stopped reading. 

Crowley came over to sit on the arm of his chair. "Erm, could we talk about kidstuff for a moment?" 

"Of course." Aziraphale put down the paper and shifted so he could look up at Crowley's face. 

"I think Warlock likes Adam."

"Of course he likes Adam, they've been friends since… Oh, you mean he  _ likes  _ Adam." Oh, this was an exciting kind of terrifying. "And do you think Adam…?" 

"Maybe. I mean, kid plays it cool but he's really just a bundle of insecurities in a Henley," Crowley muttered. 

"Takes after his father."

The look of pure outrage Crowley shot at him was adorable. 

"On paper you're his father too!" Crowley snapped.

"But I don't wear Henleys." Aziraphale pushed himself up to kiss Crowley's nose. 

"Argh, stop being cute when I'm angry."

"You're not angry, dear. You're being defensive. Remember, we talked about this."

Crowley tried to sneer, but a laugh bled through it. "Bastard."

"Why are you telling me this?" Aziraphale asked.

"Because you  _ are  _ a bastard."

"About Adam and Warlock," Aziraphale rolled his eyes." Surely the worst thing we can do is any sort of wing maning."

"Please don't use slang. Just, Warlock and I have been talking about things adjacent to his possible liking of Adam, and he's worried about how his parents will react." Crowley rubbed his eyes. "He doesn't know how to approach it yet. He's just trying to work out who he is and I said we could be a safe space, if he needs it. If that's OK with you?"

"Of course it's OK with me."

"I know. Thank you." Crowley leaned down and kissed him. 

"For what?" Aziraphale blinked. 

"This. That. Being you. Being here. With me."

"Snoppy snusband," Aziraphale said fondly. 

"You do that again, I'm going to…" 

"Snuggle me?" 

Crowley was quick. His fingers were under Aziraphale's jumper and on his ribs before he quite knew what was happening. 

The shriek he made at the aggressive tickling was louder than anything that had come from the kitchen. 

Aziraphale tried to wriggle away from the onslaught, which just made Crowley slide onto his lap. It did make the weak spot at the base of Crowley’s neck reachable though. Aziraphale tickled back with a vengeance. 

Crowley swore, twisted to grab Aziraphale's hand. They both toppled off the arm chair, narrowly avoiding a collision with the coffee table. It didn't stop the tickle fight. The poor newspaper was getting crushed beneath them.

"Oh come on, you've been married nearly five years. Honeymoon is over." Pepper stood in the doorway, arms folded and her  _ I'm saving this for therapy  _ expression in place. 

Crowley, who now had Aziraphale's hands clasped in both of his, said, "How dare you, child, we are in love!" 

"And it would be adorable if you weren't my parents!" Pepper shot back. 

Aziraphale tried not to laugh at just how much she sounded like her mother. It would have been a thoroughly shrill, uncomfortable kind of laugh. It would make everything worse.

Crowley gave Aziraphale a peck on the cheek and helped him up. 

"Besides, breakfast is served and we want the rest of the story before we need to go to the Dowlings thing." Pepper paused in the doorway. "Honestly, what if it had been Warlock that caught you?" 

She shut the door. 

They waited at least thirty seconds before they met each other's eyes and both started laughing. 


	4. My friend, the world

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Boxing Day evening.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for indulging me and supporting this silliness. I hope you enjoyed it.

Whenever Aziraphale entered the Dowling's London residence there was always that initial moment of fear to overcome. The moment when he was convinced he'd be spotted as an imposter and thrown out the servants' entrance. 

Confronted with impeccably white carpet, the terrifying lack of clutter and the towering designer Christmas Tree in the hallway, Aziraphale felt more than ready to have a moment. 

Crowley snagged two champagne flutes from a passing server and handed one over. 

"You need both?" Crowley asked. 

"Goodness no. Not both at once, anyway."

Crowley's fingers brushed his lower back. 

Aziraphale smiled up at him, and was immediately hit by the next wave of social worry. 

He still wasn't used to being recognised, and there were curious looks sliding their way. Although, that could always just be that they were the only obvious same sex couple in the room. 

"Come on." Crowley rubbed his back gently. "Let's find something stronger to drink."

The children had helped Warlock take his bags upstairs, so the two of them went to mingle, and tell the Dowlings that their offspring had been brought home in one piece. 

Aziraphale was just on edge because after he'd finished the story, rather than arguing over who had called the murderer right with Adam, Pepper had given him a look to break his heart. It was as though she'd finally worked out something about him that had been bothering her. 

Pepper had sat on his lap, wrapped her arms round his neck and held him in a way she hadn't since she'd been little. 

Then, far more disconcerting, she'd hugged Crowley. And Aziraphale still hadn't quite got the full story of what she'd said to him. 

It had all left him feeling rather raw and wobbly. In a good way, if that were possible. 

"Right then." Crowley drained his glass. "Once more unto the breach."

Aziraphale opened his mouth. 

"It's a play," Crowley hissed. "Satan's sake, angel, can't you just let one bloody quote go?" 

"Not until you admit to being thoroughly well read," Aziraphale replied primly. 

"It's a play. I'm an actor." 

"You've never even been in Henry V."

"But I am eternally optimistic."

"So, what you are, in fact saying, is you read an entire play, and memorised it, and you didn't have too?" Aziraphale made sure to sound as delighted as he felt. 

Crowley turned on him, frustration battling with laughter as his lips pursed. He leaned in close so he could whisper in Aziraphale's ear, "Just you wait until I get you home. Or would you prefer to give these fine people something to gossip about?" 

"I think," said Aziraphale. "If it's going to have anything to do with breaching we should at least find a cupboard."

Crowley's laugh made several people startle. Then Harriet found them and they were obliged to behave. 

Once Aziraphale had found the red wine, he remembered that people really could be quite lovely. He and Crowley did take regular turns to check on the children though, so they could have five minutes upstairs with their eyes closed recharging their brains. 

Aziraphale was not used to people seeking him out and as lovely as Harriet could be, he rather suspected their presence at her little Christmas soiree had turned into something of a social coup for her. She was very eager to introduce them as, "Darling, you must know Anthony Crowley, and this is his husband the author."

Aziraphale wasn't sure if she was showing them off because they were famous or to demonstrate her own wokeness, or whether she was even sure herself. 

It was a relief when out of all the people present, it was Warlock who sidled up to him at the buffet. 

"Thank you for having me over Christmas. It was nice." Warlock shuffled his feet. 

"Perfectly alright, dear boy." Aziraphale offered him an empty plate which was politely refused. 

"I have something I need to tell you," Warlock ventured. 

"Oh, no need to worry. Crowley mentioned it, have you asked him yet?" Sweet really that Warlock wanted to talk to Aziraphale about Adam too. 

"What?" Warlock asked with confusion. 

"Adam?" Aziraphale responded, equally confused. 

"Oh…" Warlock flushed, which rather gave away Adam's response. "Yes, but that’s not what I wanted to speak to you about." Warlock looked around nervously. "It’s my fault," he whispered. "I was at a fundraiser mum was organising, and I was reading the book, your book, and you know how she loves collecting people with connections. It's why she’s collected you and Mr Crowley. Anyway it was really boring, then I started talking to this guy she'd collected who had just started work as a producer for the BBC. He was looking for a project and not many people have read it, your book, not that I knew it was your book then, but he had and it was nice to have someone to discuss it with, then I mentioned you had a copy of the book too, and it started off as a conspiracy theory…"

"You've read Hell and Holy Water?" Aziraphale's voice rose. 

"Yes." Warlock looked mortified. 

"All of it?" 

"Erm, yes."

Aziraphale nearly bent his fork in half. As he'd read it again over Christmas every single one of the lines he considered inappropriate for children was fresh in his memory. He wanted to drag Warlock to the kitchen and rinse his brain out. 

"Quite alright," Aziraphale said weakly. "Is there anything you need to talk to me about?" he added with trepidation.

Was Warlock damaged, the poor thing? Aziraphale had never imagined he'd be having this conversation with his son's boyfriend. Oh God, Adam had a boyfriend. Did Crowley know yet? 

"Yes, that's what I'm doing now," Warlock said pointedly. "I wanted to say sorry. I put you in a difficult position, and upset your Christmas." 

Aziraphale took a moment to get his own feelings in order so he could focus on Warlock's. 

"You did none of those things. I'm flattered, and concerned… You read all of it?" Aziraphale persisted. 

"I'm seventeen, Mr Fell, and give me, and yourself, some credit. I didn’t read it just for the… Dirty bits." Warlock blushed slightly. 

"Dirty bits! They were part of emotional revelations and relevant to the plot."

"Sure."

Aziraphale narrowed his eyes. Warlock kept his poker face on. 

"It's a good book," Warlock said. "Adam and I had this underground LGBTQ reading group our last term at college. We read it there. Dead hard to get hold of a copy. We were passing a single one round for weeks. It helped me get my thoughts ordered a bit, you know. Seeing characters thinking and feeling the way I do sometimes. I felt, you know? Seen."

"Oh!" Aziraphale didn't know what to say to that. He remembered his own phase of ingesting every single piece of queer culture he could get his hands on. He was getting a little bit teary over the fact his book could be part of that for someone else. Then, "Wait! Adam's read it too!?"

Oh Good Lord! 

Later that evening Aziraphale managed to winkle Crowley away from the more aggressive of his admirers. They wandered back out into the hallway with its sweeping staircase and loitered next to the twinkling Christmas Tree. 

"I think I need to call my agent," Aziraphale murmured as he sipped his wine. 

"Really?" Crowley rested a shoulder against the bannister. 

"I'm going to say yes to the television adaptation." And saying it aloud made all the worry evaporate. 

"Good for you." Crowley smiled. One of the rarely seen honest ones. There were dimples and everything. 

"Darling." Aziraphale shifted closer so they were both leaning against the stairs facing each other. "Would you like to play Eden? I can make it a condition…" 

"You'd trust me with that?" Crowley's eyebrows lifted. 

"You know I would. And I know you'd do it exactly as I told you to." Aziraphale smiled sweetly. 

"Yeah, alright I would." Crowley sucked on his bottom lip. "Thank you, but no. Give a younger man a crack at it. Besides. It'd wouldn't be any fun without you as my Eastgate." He all but purred the last bit. 

"Goodness. I couldn't." Then because the idea wasn't completely unappealing. "In public."

"I know." Crowley smirked. "Not in public then.'

"And besides…" Aziraphale glanced at the ceiling. "I've always thought you'd make a very good Lord Belial."

"What, the head of The Authority? First Caligula, now this. Angel, do we need to talk about your psychopath kink?" 

"You knew what you were getting into when you married me." Aziraphale shrugged. 

"Wait. Lord Belial isn't in the book. He's just referenced." This time Crowley only lifted one eyebrow. "You're plotting." He did not seem at all put out by this. 

"Only if it's well received. I did leave the original rather open ended." Aziraphale tried to sound nonchalant, but there was excitement at the idea of writing more, places he could go now that he was older and braver. 

"The Eden and Eastgate mysteries." Crowley laughed. "You've got it all figured out."

"Eastgate and Eden." Aziraphale corrected. "That's alphabetical."

"Creative differences, is it?" Crowley shifted closer. 

"Titles are always the hardest," Aziraphale conceded. "Not to mention summaries. Well, there's time."

"And the world's your oyster?"

"Yes, it rather is." Aziraphale wiggled happily.

"To the world then." Crowley raised his glass. 

"Yes, dear, To the world."

**Author's Note:**

> If you want to read a vague approximation of the story Aziraphale is telling (with the sex left in) please read  
> [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28108815)
> 
> Although this is by no means needed or required to understand this fic which is just an excuse for Christmas fluff.


End file.
